Sex, DC Comics, and ... wtf?

Long term readers know my opinion on sex in writing.  I'd say my opinion on sex in general is very Catholic, but since no one understand that, I'm not even going to bother.



However, I can sum up my thoughts on sex in fiction very easily: who needs it?



As Rebekah says, we all know the mechanics. What possible reason is there for a blow by blow description? Pardon the pun, but you know what I mean.



Since my first article on sex, I've written a few sex scenes .... by few I mean two, and they were in the same book.  However, the "sex scene" was in someone's dream, and the protagonist was having a conversation with his dead wife through most of it. The sex was incidental, and mostly has to do with the fact that she was killed on their honeymoon.  The second sex scene was so vague, any less detail would be as clear as a Salvatore Dali painting, only with words.



Yes, I brought in Dali to an article on sex. I'm weird. However, there is a point.


Even during these scenes, there's no blow by blow description. (I'm going to stop apologizing for that phrase, just roll with it.).  It's not necessary, unless someone's writing porn.  Even something as intimate as noticing a tattoo on someone during sex doesn't necessitate that much detail -- the audience does not need to know what specific act the individual was doing when s/he noticed the tattoo.  It's sex. Nudity happens.  Next chapter.

So, what prompted today's rant?

DC Comics seems to be going back to the 1990s, where the artistic style was summarized by my friend Jason as "Big boobs, big guns."

The current version seems to focus on women and sexuality, with an overemphasis on the sex.

I've no problem with sexuality, or with women -- look at my model for Manana Shushurin if you don't believe me --  it's that it's bad writing.

Starfire, in costume

Take, for example, the character of Starfire.  She's an alien with red hair, green eyes (and I don't mean with two green irises, I mean the entire eye is green), orange skin, with measurements somewhere in the 36 DD battery range.

Normally, I would stop reading at green-eyed redhead (I grew up with a crush on the female lead in Riverdance, leave me alone).  The character has always been sexually relaxed, it was mostly a cultural thing.  And, for the most part, it was used properly -- as comedy.  For example, in the classic Crisis on Infinite Earths, Starfire walks in with Nightwing, meets an old friend, and introduces him as "This is Nightwing, my lover."


Nightwing's reaction is such that you suspect he's glad that he has to go and face the end of the world.

And that was it.  One panel. Move on.

I look at this and think ...Ow! My back!

In their recent reboot, DC spent far, far too long on having Starfire posing.  And by posing, I don't mean "for seducing the guy she's targeted for seduction." I mean in weird, contortionist-like ways that are only useful for modeling.  Modeling what, I'm not entirely certain, but, still ....



What was the point of that scene?  Aside from "we're pandering to hormonal males who can't buy Playboy"?  Anyone? Anyone at all? Bueller?  Bueller?

DC has landed in

Baywatch territory

Starfire is a woman who can quite literally level city blocks.  And DC decided to dedicate a whole page to her trying to jump someone's bones, with another page dedicated to "Gee, she looks good in a bikini."  Really? They couldn't think of something she could blow up?

Someone ran out of room for a plot in this issue, didn't they?

Notice I have not pointed out her barely there costume.  The "reasoning" is that she absorbs solar energy through her skin, and the less she wears, the more surface area is used.....

Funny, twenty years ago, when Superman just came back from the dead and needed an enhanced recharge from the sun, he had to wear a form-fitting black suit to increase his solar intake.  But then, that was before 300 and chiseled, CGI generates 8-pack abs were "in."

Also strange: she needs to bear more skin for more solar energy absorption, but she wears thigh-high boots, covering a lot of that surface area. If her powers honestly worked like that, it's time to invest in sandals.

So, to recap: Does this entire setup tell us anything about the character? Nothing new.  Does it add anything to the plot?  Is it amusing? No and no.

If we're lucky, comic books last 32 pages, without counting the ads.  If we're not, it's more like 25 or 27. But they'll blow anywhere from 6%-10% of the book having Sunfire posing?  Who the hell is writing this crap?

Anne Hathaway as

Catwoman

And, then, there's Catwoman. Yup, the one in the really tight-fitting outfit.  As opposed to Halle Berry, the one in no outfit ... that was more CatHouseWoman than anything else.

Granted, in some ways, I think Catwoman's outfit is more practical than Batman's -- there's no loose fitting articles of clothing to be caught on nails, screws, the vents she crawls around in, etc.  And, leather is good in knife fights (I read weird articles. I also write them). Batman's outfit seems to have only recently made the cape practical, but I don't keep up with these things.

The cat burglar and antihero has had an on again, off again relationship with Batman since Julie Newmar played her in the 1960s Batman tv show.  Maybe longer.

Green Skin? Really?

But, no, decades of jumping Batman -- sometimes literally -- is apparently, too subtle.

Let's have a full-on sex scene!!!!

Really?

Then again, I have a problem; I look at these images, and my first thought is "Why is her skin green? Has she been hanging out with Poison Ivy too much, or is it really odd mood lighting?"

So, what, exactly, does this entire sex scene add?  Another two to three pages eaten up by something that could probably be implied in one panel, and -- oh, yeah -- the next issue is called .... wait for it .... The Morning After.  Nope, still too subtle.

What do these pages add?  Oh gee, Catwoman is taking his gloves off with her teeth. She's a little frisky .... um, she dresses up in skintight leather and carries a whip, I think we got that part.

Really?

A whole splash page?

So .... what was the point of this exercise? Obviously, they're going to continue this as a story line into the next issue.  Good for them. So what? Why did they need two or three pages on this? Any one of you out there, reading this article right now, could have come up with a way to tell the audience that, yes, they are copulating. I suspect you could have done it in ... what, half a page? With some internal monologue?

That a "professional author" has done it this pathetic.

Obviously, someone at DC has decided that its readers are either (a) functionally retarded, and subtlety would go over their heads, (b) too young to get legal access to get this stuff on their own or (c) the author used to write fan fiction before this.

The author, Judd Winick, is the mastermind behind resurrecting Robin #2, Jason Todd -- a punk kid who was so despised, DC took a poll of fans, and the fans wanted him half beaten to death, and blown to kingdom come.  Winick's brilliant idea: resurrect Todd, and make him crazy. So, I suspect we can't expect too much from this guy.

In short: this is no way to treat halfway decent characters. Catwoman has had a long run by dancing on both sides of the law, and living in a gray area that makes her more interesting than Batman at times .... and more sane (I think Batman was on his fourth nervous breakdown, last I checked).  Starfire, for all the oversexed portions of her nature, has been entertaining for reasons other than that -- she had a run on Infinite Heroes, where she had some great character moments, and anytime the oversexed nudist part of her came out, it was a source of quick entertainment, and then we moved onto the plot.

You want to see a great example of using female superheroes?  Take Rebekah's latest chapter of Masks. Technically, it's a fight scene with three women -- fully clothed women who are quite intent on pursuit and capture, or escape and evasion.

There are no tight-fitting, slinky costumes, no mostly-nude women ... there's not even a mud wrestling joke -- because the moment the pursuers get close enough to grapple with our heroine, it's game over.

So, DC Comics, it's time for you to start taking some notes.  Because you've got a super powered alien, a martial artist cat burglar, and Rebekah Hendershot kicked your asses with a novice, teenage superhero who has no powers whatsoever.  There is a lesson to be learned here.

Writing a love story.

I've mentioned how many different things that my novel, A Pius Man, happens to be. I've mentioned how I blow up public places. That there is philosophy, shootouts, history, explosions, theology, a car chase, RPGs (not role playing games), property damage, and … hmm, there's something else there.

Oh, yeah, a love story.

It's not that strange. After all, a love story seems almost obligatory nowadays. Usually, as a motivation for senseless violence after killing off half of the couple involved. Even if it's as simple as a boy and his dog … or a boy and his robotic killing machine in Terminator 2.

I mean, hell, what makes me qualified to do a romance subplot? I mean, hell, I'm weird, maybe you've noticed. Just from the various and sundry topics on the site, I'm all over the place. I've done comic books, politics, terrorism, writing, music, book reviews, and the list keeps going. The less said about theology, the better.

But a love story?

Here's the thing. I'm in love …

Yes, with a woman … Yes, she's human …

And non-fiction …

No, she's not “from Canada”...

Though she might as well be.

It's complicated.


I met this woman online, and she didn't come onto me in any way. She saw I was a fan of J. Michael Straczynski, when she asked to be friends on Myspace. This was back when Myspace was actually good for something ...

Yes, that long ago.

We exchanged emails. We found out that we have a lot in common. We make fun of the same people. We like the same authors. We have the same sense of humor....

On the same sense of humor: we each started talking about one book that had come out – a Jim Butcher novel called Turncoat. My family had gotten the book before her local library had, and she said, “No spoilers.”

At which point, my default setting was to tease her. “So I shouldn't tell you about the love interest being the traitor, and Y-person 'comforting' our hero afterwards …? …. Which of course is impossible for me to know, because I haven't I haven't been able to read the book at all, so I know nothing.”

Her response was “Ye gods, your second paragraph had me wanting to claw my eyes out before I got to your third! Mission accomplished; you got me good.”

I think I fell a little bit in love with her that day.

Though what prompted me to first say it was when she sent me a little bit of “flair” that said “Good morning, I see the assassins have failed.”

And I had sent her the exact same flair about the exact same time.

My reply was mostly in jest: “I am certain that we are compatibly dorky and violent. I must hit on you.... “

Her response: “Hit on me? This could get scary if we're ever on the same side of the continent at the same time. But don't let that stop you. :)”

But that was as far at it went. The rest of that exchange had to deal with the spoilers discussion from above. Every once in a while, we would mention “flirtation subtitles,” or hand signals (via email). We would compare dating histories, then discuss Alan Moore's League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Victor Hugo, and try to write Jim Butcher's next few books for him. We had similar jokes on sex scenes in novels – and even considered doing a similar twist on the cliché for a later novel: an idea we had developed independent of each other.

We challenge each other – I know she challenges me, and she claims the same, but she covers it so very well and so effortlessly, I wouldn't know unless she told me.

We then started shipping books back and forth for conferences she didn't get to, but I did, and vice versa. She got me into a webcomic she was following in hardcopy … then I read ahead of her by reading it online.

After two years of back and forth, we met in person at an aquarium. Nothing overdramatic, but it was pleasant. We talked of comic book characters, and sharks and Peter Benchley. When we tried footnoting the real life story Benchley stole Jaws from, we both knew it was 1916, in the New York area, but we disagreed on the shark type and the exact location. Then we found a plaque dedicated to Jaws, and discovered that I was right about the shark, she was right about the location.

Together, we can remember a whole story.

I suspect that with her, I can even pass for a whole and complete person.

Since we are on opposite ends of the universe, she has encouraged me to try dating -- if only as a trial run. She is the only woman for whom I would drag myself into the quagmire of the dating pool.

No, she is not the most beautiful woman in the universe – well, she is, but I can't say that, because she somewhat disagrees with me on the topic, and it's easier just to smile, nod, and talk about something else.

I think she's beautiful and wondrous. And she is truly the brightest star in my star ...

Thankfully, I have a 50/50 chance of her reading this blog … so, shhh, don't tell her.

But not only is she beautiful, she's smart, and kind, and generous. She offers time she doesn't have, but by God, she will make it. I suspect if/when A Pius Man sells it will be because of her time and effort in edits.

No, it's not easy. I've hit her self-destruct buttons a few times without knowing it. In fact, once, I jabbed it repeatedly in the same few hours without realizing it. And I nearly triggered a nervous breakdown. By email alone.

We're working on our communication.

As I said, not easy. But if love were easy, I wouldn't trust it. I've had love come to me easily. Twice. Both times, it ended in the most spectacularly awful implosion.

So, it's not easy. But it's right.

That is pretty much what I hope to do in my novels...

Notice how my relationship developed. Little details. Small things that add up into a very nice big picture. Our tiny jabs at Stephen King, the light teasing about Terry Prachett. Change the details if you like, but that's mostly how I like to think most romance stories should go.

Then again, if I wrote a romance novel, I suspect that my two leads would only get to an “I love you” by the end of the book. Possibly on the last page. Or when they're about to be killed.

And it's not easy. But it's right.

Month in Review: October, 2011

October is the month where everything went very, very strange.  And, that was apparently a good thing.

I started out with something that pissed me off: DC Comics turning Starfire and Catwoman, two of their stronger female protagonists, into sluts, to put it charitably.  They were so totally reduced to sex objects, I wanted to throw rocks.

So I threw angry language at them instead.

Ironically, in one month, it has become the most read post on this entire blog, beating out Disasters to Marvel at, which is a year old.

Also, I decided to get back to creative writing, creating more surveys that my characters have filled out.  You know, the older online essays that used to be sort of fun.  I had one for the German spy Manana Shushurin, and another for the Secret Service agent and nerd, Wilhelmina Goldberg, as well as the lethal weapon, Irish Interpol Agent Maureen McGrail.

I didn't have all that many music blogs this month.  I threw up some John Williams marches, and Tom Smith taking his revenge on technology and Rob Granito

A false report on gay marriage in the military made me start an irate blog .... then I wanted a better footnote, discovered that the story I based my indignation on was bogus, and I was stuck with a blog I had to rewrite, very, very fast.

I put in another blog on writing. This time it was a matter of "how to exposition like crazy" -- when you have to dump a graduate paper's worth of information into one novel.

Also, I had a little conversation on how to write for disaster.  It's mostly how to write characters who are supposed to be terrified, when you yourself have never been quite that scared -- and, making certain that your character's fear is appropriate both to the situation, and the person.

And, there was my self-defense review for the month -- with my  my self defense columns for October. It had to do a lot with Occupy Wall Street, self defense for women, and self defense against the zombie apocalypse .... I'm serious about the zombie apocalypse part.

Catholic conspiracies 3.  This was almost a replacement for It was inspired after I saw a lot of idiots try to pin Occupy Wall Street on "crypto-Jewish Jesuit fascists founded by the Illuminati."

I want my Vatican ninjas.

A Long Overdue Rant: Sex.

An atheist friend of mine just blamed the Catholic Church for AIDS in Africa.


For anyone who wants a footnote, read Laurie Garret's Betrayal of Trust, where you realize: crap, Africa really doesn't like condoms.  Like men everywhere, they bad mouth condoms as belittling their machismo.  And, in a country where AIDS is as prevalent as it is, that just puts more bullets in the revolver for the Russian roulette.  In Africa, they don't like, want, or use condoms. Which means they're like men everywhere, with a high risk factor.

Africa is also a country where they had a "cure" for AIDS -- they had to sleep with a virgin, the younger the better.  Which led to more babies being sexually abused than in all the Catholic parishes in all the world.  But why bother with little, inconvenient details.

See, North America isn't the only continent that can have whole pockets of a cultural wasteland.

Uganda seems to be the only people who have used anti-AIDS measures to any great effectiveness.  And part of that is .... wait for it ... abstinence!  Gee, why couldn't the Catholic Church think of that?

Oh, wait, it did.

But, no, the Catholic Church is responsible because they're against condoms!

Um, I'm sorry, let's face it, if no one will listen to the Catholic Church badmouth premarital sex, why the hell does anyone think that people will listen about on condoms?

Can't you just see the conversation now?

The Church: "Don't screw around before you're married."
People in general: "Oh, who wants to listen to that crap? Sex is fun!"
The Church: "Don't use condoms, because sex, sanctified within the sacrament of marriage, is for procreation, as well as for an expression of love and for fun."
People in general: "No condoms, got it!"

Do people really think it works like that?  Seriously?  Beuller? Beuller?

And the Pope himself recently mentioned that, if you have an STD, condom use is actually a positive sign: if someone is using a condom while carrying an STD, that means that you are actively being responsible for your condition.

As Pope Benedict said, it's like robbing a bank.  The Church would like you do not do it, but if you're going to do it, carrying a gun without bullets means you at least care about human life, if not human property.

But to screw around and say that you're being a good Catholic because you're not using a condom?  That means you are a hypocrite, and that you will latch onto any doctrine, rumor, or halfway believable "truth" that will let you screw around without protection.

Just wait until they hear about "free love."